


The life giving substance

by Aeron12



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 25 year old Number Five, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Assassin Number Five | The Boy, Blood Bond, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Commission Number Five, Daddy Kink, Dark Number Five | The Boy, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I mean they're vampires of course there's a blood kink, Jealous Number Five | The Boy, Masturbation, Mild Gore, Moral Ambiguity, Mutual Masturbation, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy in an Adult Body, Possessive Number Five | The Boy, Protective Number Five | The Boy, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Oral Sex, Smut, They're all vampires, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Five, Vampire Vanya, Vampires, fiveya - Freeform, vampire beauty and the beast, what better time to post this story than in October?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeron12/pseuds/Aeron12
Summary: The public can’t get enough of the Umbrella Academy, with their incredible powers and masks. But what the public doesn’t know is that the members of the Umbrella Academy are actually vampires.Ever since he was young, there was always one blood that always seemed to call to him, one he craved above all others. He didn’t know what it was, but the very smell of Vanya’s blood stirred something dangerous inside him. Vampires aren’t meant to crave another vampire’s blood, but he needed her's.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 39
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I'm new to this fandom, and I just noticed that there’s a lack of vampire AU’s here so I decided to write my own :)

Love was undoubtedly one of the things capable of changing a person’s whole life, from one moment to the next. But there was the other side of the coin, the second thing that could make a human being take a totally different course from the one he or she had planned; and that was called despair. Yes, perhaps love really could transform someone, but despair did the job more quickly.

Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes

*

*

September 27, 2014

Rain was beating against the glass, the occasional flash of lighting lightened up the room. Five pushed the curtain, looking out the window, the street lights lighting up half of his face. It has been raining for some time already, and there didn't seem to be an end to it any time soon.

He set his jaw, looking at the rain with disappointment. He had hoped it would go down so he could go to the local bar to get a drink, but it seems he had no such luck. Too bad really, he was looking forward to unwinding for a change.

With a huff he let go of the curtain, shrouding the room in complete darkness. Not his silhouette, not even the window, nothing could be seen except the eerie glow of his green eyes. Any normal person wouldn't be able to make out anything in this darkness, but he wasn't a normal person now was he? He is a vampire, he can see just as well in the dark as he can in the light, if not more.

Five walked around the rugged bed. The room his employer had given him for this mission was old, and stuffy in a rundown roadside hotel. For an assassin of his calibre, a legend, such a room should be unacceptable and below his standards but that's just the way he liked it. Doing his job in a high-end hotel proved to be more difficult than actually carrying out his mission. Personnel in five-star hotels made too many questions were too curious, that wasn't the case with places like these. In places like these people minded their own business, even if they hear someone being tortured to death. 

"Enjoyed your nap?" He asked, sitting on the bed, facing the chair across from him.

Strapped on the wooden chair was a man, his head was slumped down, long, messy black hair covering his face. The man's, whose name he wasn't sure if it was John or Peter, shirt was torn and bloodied. His hands were strapped with ropes to the armrest while his torso was strapped to the backrest. A regular person looking in would think the man was some sort of criminal for deserving such treatment, but he was just a regular everyday Joe, as per usual.

The commission, his employers, sent him on this mission to find and execute a certain high school teacher. The man tied to the chair was no such target, he just happened to be the unlucky individual who knew where his target was hiding.

"Let's do this again," Five tilted his head and regarded him. "Where is your wife?"

The man didn't respond, he just sat there unmoving. Five huffed. He wasn't mad at his lack of compliance, just a little irked by it. Everything would be so much easier if people just did what he asked.

Five rose from the bed and knelt in front of the man, resting his elbows on his own knees, his eyes on the target who kept his head down. The man didn't move or say anything, if he didn't know better and didn't notice the way his chest rose up and down as he breathed, he would think he was dead. But he knew the man was very much alive and conscious, he was just ignoring him. Stretching out his hand, Five grabbed a handful of the man's hair between his fingers and yanked his head back. The man gave out a gurgle-like groan of pain, breathing coming out haggardly. Now that hair wasn't obstructing his face, Five could see him properly.

The man's face was swollen and littered with bruises, nose broken, his right eye mangled with a trail of dry blood. His state was such that if someone that knew him were to look at him now they weren't likely to recognize him, and yet it was nothing compared to what he will do to him if he doesn't tell him what he wants to know.

Five leaned forward, eyes set on the man's one good eye.

"If you tell me where she is, I'll let you go," he offered, his voice soft with fake tenderness.

Chest rising up and down labouredly, the man took a few seconds to respond, but when he did, it was a response he was going to regret. Weakly, the man had leaned his head back slightly and spat on Five's face.

His eyes darkened as anger boiled inside him, and he twisted his face into one of disgust. He let go of the man's hair to wipe the spit off his face and raised himself to his full height. He hated it when people were difficult for no reason, but sometimes he enjoyed it, just like he was going to enjoy it this time.

Reaching inside his back pockets he took out a pair of black leather gloves and slipped them on. It was all just as well that he didn't tell him anything. Before the night's through the man's going to find himself in a ditch somewhere.

With the grace of a predator, Five made his way around the chair to stand behind it. The man took in deep large breaths, his one good eye followed him, the only thing he could do from how weak he was. The man looked like shit, if he didn't know any better he'd say that he was at death doors, that if he did anything else to him he might end up dying. An amateur assassin might make that mistake, but Five was a professional, he knew how far to take it. After all, he wasn't a legend for nothing.

Grabbing the man's head between his hands, the man froze under his grasp breathing quickening, already knowing what was coming. Five basked in the way the man’s heart beat faster, pumping blood at an incredible speed as terror griped him. Years ago it might have made him sick, to feel such pleasure at someone else’s fear but after he let the monster he had kept chained inside him out, he no longer cared. And besides, why should he deny his nature? He’s not human. 

Lips curled into a dangerous grin, revealing a set of fangs before he pulled the man's head to the side and sunk his fangs into his neck.

The scream was deafening. 

January 7th, 2002

Blood, they say, is the life-giving substance, something all living things share in common, a substance that all vampires crave. Or so they say. But for Five, at that very moment, he didn't think the blood in front of him was at all appetizing.

He and his siblings were sitting on their usual spots around the dinner table, at the head of the table sat their father. In front of each of them were bowls meant to hold soup, or other human foods, but instead, there was a bright red liquid inside it, blood. His siblings were dutifully eating their meal with spoons, making them appear like totally normal teenagers. In fact, for an outsider looking in, they might look like they were drinking soup, that is until they took a closer look and saw the blood and the way their fangs peaked from under their lips every time they opened their mouths. For what the public didn't know is that every member of the Umbrella Academy, the young superheroes the public couldn't get enough of, were all secretly vampires.

None of them knew how or why, they just knew that they were. A strange side of them that set them apart from normal people, just like their powers.

Five propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his open palm. He lazily swirled the red liquid around on his plate with his spoon, looking down at it with disinterest. His nose wrinkled with disgust by just the smell of it.

It was bagged blood, as per usual, they were strictly prohibited from ever drinking blood right from the source. While he didn't know what fresh blood tasted like, having never tried it except those few times he cut himself and sucked on the wound, he doubted it tasted anything like what he was currently drinking. The blood on the bowl was stale, with a plastic-like taste that made him want to gag. People say that ignorance is bliss, but even though he'd never tasted fresh blood he knew this tasted disgusting, always thought so even though he's been drinking it all his life. He wasn't the only one either, his other siblings thought so too but they never complained, never imagined anything else, nothing better. Not him. He's always been curious about everything, and lately, he's been curious to know what real blood tasted like.

He grabbed a spoonful of blood, only to tilt the spoon in his hands and watched the liquid fall back inside the bowl, more interested in playing with it than actually drinking it.

When he heard audible munching as teeth worked on a piece of solid food, Five snapped his attention away from his own bowl and to the person sitting right beside him.

He pulled his face into a slight frown. Unlike the rest of their siblings, Seven was eating regular human food. Steak and small potatoes like their father. Five wasn't the jealous type, he was rarely ever jealous of anyone, but in every mealtime, he was always jealous of Seven, watching her almost mesmerized with how she practically hummed with every bite she took. For reasons neither he nor his siblings know, Seven has always been different than all of them. Sure, she's still a vampire-like the rest of them, but her diet didn't just consist of blood, she could survive off of human food for some time. As for him, he's never tasted human food before. He tried it once after she offered him some of her food when she noticed the look of longing and curiosity in his eyes, but when he tried it he instantly spat it out. For some reason, human food tasted like clay. He had been so mad after that discovery, that he couldn't taste human food like Seven could, that he had glared at her during meal times. That anger had passed, but the jealousy didn't. He figured that to her, human food must taste delicious, otherwise, she wouldn't be savouring every morsel.

Seven took bite after bite of her food, practically humming with delight as she savoured the food. He ground his teeth with every hum, not angry at her per se, more at the fact that she was enjoying her food while he was stuck with the same packaged, warmed up blood.

"Number Five."

Five snapped his head away from Seven and turned his eyes to the head of the table to look at their father. The others around the table visibly stiffened on their seats but they didn't say anything as they continued to eat, pretending to be more interested in their bowl.

Their father shifted his gaze from his plate to him, his usual scowl plastered on his face.

"Is there something wrong with your meal?"

He shook his head. "No sir." He responded, working his jaw.

As their father shook his head and was about to get back to his own meal, he spoke up, which made everyone around the table stiffen further.

"Actually...I was wondering, why can't we ever have real blood?"

He watched as his father quirked a brow with condescending amusement.

"And what do you think you're currently drinking? Synthetic blood?"

He shook his head. "No, I mean...why can't we drink straight from the source?"

The dining room fell deathly silent upon hearing his questions around him his siblings froze, spoons halfway to their mouths. He vaguely understood their reaction, vaguely understood what he was asking. Drinking from blood bags was safe, kept any interaction with the outside world to a minimum, keeping the truth about their nature a secret. Drinking from the source on the other hand was dangerous, increasing the likelihood of their nature to be found out, but other than that he didn't understand why they couldn't. Yes, he understood why they had to keep it a secret, why the public couldn't know more than what their masks told them, that they were superheroes, nothing more. But their father's unwillingness to let them try real blood didn't make sense. During their missions they got to kill plenty of assholes that deserve worse than a quick death, so why not make them pay and drain them dry? I didn't make sense, it was almost like their father wanted to keep them like leashed wolves, pretending that they were domesticated dogs.

When their father set his cutlery down and leaned forward on his seat, he knew he was going to hear it now.

"Listen to me Number Five," he met his father's eyes."You are not to drink blood from the source, ever, do you understand?"

Five set his jaws, lips twisted and brows crossed into a rebellious frown. He was a rebellious individual by nature, always was. The more his father prohibited something the more he wanted to go against his wishes. There was just a voice that kept saying yes every time his father said no.

"Is that understood Number Five?" He asked more sharply, and Five balled his hand into a fist under the table. Beside him Seven tensed, feeling her eyes on him but he ignored it.

When he was younger he would have voiced out what was on his mind, but after realizing there was no point, that he wouldn't get anywhere that way, he said exactly what their father wanted to hear.

He pulled his lips into a sneer like smile."Yes sir."

The air around the table lost most of its tension as everyone watched the head of the table as their father leaned back and regarded them all, his chin raised.

"That applies to all you, no drinking from the source."

There were no further words said by anyone of them after that, not even from Five who took up his spoon and finally drank his blood, grimacing in disgust every time the liquid touched his tongue.

After dinner, after they were dismissed to their own rooms he had teleported straight to Seven's room as usual, especially after having spoken up at the dinner table, a normal occurrence for him.

When he materialized in her room he found her sitting in her desk chair, waiting for him expectantly, knowing that he'd come to visit her.

He didn't say anything as he met her gaze and made his way to her bed, falling down on it.

"What was that all about?" She asked.

Five didn't answer right away as an odd smell invaded his nose. Sniffing the air, his nose wrinkled slightly. As a vampire, he was blessed and cursed with good olfactory senses, and it was because of it that he could smell the faint smell of weed inside Seven's room. Of course, he knew it wasn't hers, the smell didn't cling to her nor did he ever think she would smoke weed.

"Has Four asked you to hide his stash again?" He looked from one side of the room to the other, as if looking for it. After father caught Four's weed stash in his room, Four has asked every one of them to hide it inside their rooms for him. Of course, they all said no except for Seven, who was always too nice for her own good and he hated that their siblings took advantage of that.

Seven quirked a brow and crossed her arms as if telling him that she knew full well that he was trying to change the topic.

"Five."

He groaned and laid down on the bed, his gaze on the ceiling. He never liked to dwell on things after they happened, always preferring to keep moving forward and never looking back. Naturally, Seven was the opposite, she liked to dwell on the past, like to talk things over and somehow managed to get him to talk.

"Nothing, I'm just annoyed about drinking the same thing every day," he grumbled.

"Blood?"

"Of course not blood, I got no choice but to drink the damn thing." He waved his hand dismissively. "What I mean is where it comes from."

He rose up on the bed, propping his elbow on the mattress as he faced Seven, the space between his brows wrinkling.

"Haven't you ever wondered…what real blood tastes like?"

He didn't know why but he felt almost nervous about what she was going to say, what she thought of him for wanting to try it. Would she think he's a monster like the ones in those vampire movies filled with inaccuracies? Or would she say that she did think about it and also wanted to try it?

It was what felt like a minute later that she answered, her brows set together.

"Sometimes, but I mean, isn't that wrong?

He felt both panic and relief rise in the pit of his stomach.

He frowned. "Wrong?"

"I mean, wouldn't drinking from somebody mean biting them and killing them?" She responded, her voice soft.

For a long while, he just regarded her. It sometimes surprised him how different they both were. He didn't think killing someone that deserved it was wrong, he's been doing it for months now in missions, and wanted to tell her as much but he knew she wouldn't see it his way so he slumped back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling again. He kept his thoughts to himself.

"Maybe you're right."

Silence befell in the room, as neither said a word nor move. He wasn't all that surprised by her answer, she was always so compassionate. He knew her that well, or so he thought because what she asked next surprised him to the core.

Her expression pulled down into an awkward one. "I mean, there is a way we could try it without him knowing."

He nearly shot up on the bed when he heard that, not having expected it.

Five frowned and tilted his head. "How?" He asked, genuinely surprised that she had come up with a way to taste human blood without their father knowing about it.

She blushed a little and placed her attention on her fingers, averting his gaze. His forehead wrinkled from confusion.

"Well… we both bleed right?" She asked, and he understood where she was going with this.

"Do you think it would be the same?" He asked, his voice laced with curiosity a little surprised that he hadn't thought about that.

He never considered drinking any of his siblings' blood. Sure they sometimes bled in training and on missions, but the sight and smell of their blood never appealed to him, the smell of their blood wasn't much better than bagged blood. But with Seven, he's never smelled her blood before seeing as she was never in a situation where she could be wounded. She didn't cook, didn't go on missions, never handled sharp objects, and hasn't had her first period yet, not that he knew much about that either. In fact, he was almost convinced that she'd never bled in her life.

She shrugged and met his gaze, nervousness dancing in her eyes. "I don't know but I guess it's worth a shot."

He frowned, his jaw set. A part of him was excited to try it, to finally find out what biting something and taste blood would be like but another smaller part of him told him this was a bad idea. But she didn't give him a chance to voice either of his thoughts as Seven rose from her chair and made her way to the bed. He gulped when she joined him on her mattress.

For the longest time they simple gazed into each other's eyes, almost expectantly and he realized how intimate this almost seemed.

"How do we do this?" She asked, sounding just as nervous as he was.

"I guess the wrist is the simplest way," he answered, his voice soft, a little nervous as he lost all of his usual confidence.

She took a short shaky breath and nodded. Keeping their eyes on each other, they shifted closer on the bed until their knees bumped against each other. Trying not to think too hard about it, he brought up his wrist and offered it to her and she did the same. For what felt like hours they both held out their wrist, almost as if giving the other a chance to back out but when neither of them did he cleared his throat to get rid of some of the awkward silence. He needed to get his act together, it's not like he was kissing her or anything, just drinking her blood. He might not even end up liking the taste anyway, this was just an experiment, no need to be worked up.

With renowned confidence he grabbed her wrist with his other hand and raised it to his mouth, when Seven spoke, he froze on the spot.

"Five, I can't…." she trailed off, looking from his wrist to him and he wanted to facepalm for not remembering that little detail. Unlike them, Seven doesn't have fangs, yet another thing she was different in.

"Oh shit sorry, I forgot."

He took his arm back, but still kept her wrist between his fingers. As he gazed down at his own wrist, he thought about reaching inside her nightstand and grabbing the knife he put there for her just in case someone broke in, to make a small cut on his wrist for her. But then he thought against it and brought his wrist to his mouth and bit down, completely avoiding a major vein. He didn’t wan to bleed out in her room.

The bite only stung a little, but it was definitely a new sensation seeing as he had never bitten himself, or anything before. In fact, it surprised him how easily his fangs cut through his skin as if it were butter. He was thankful that he did it on himself first. Now that he knew how easy it was to cut through skin he was going to be extra careful with her.

When he felt Seven's wrist grow stiff and her heartbeat rise under his fingertips, he shifted his eyes from his bleeding wrist, with a clear impression of his teeth, to her. Her attention was zeroed in on the red liquid oozing out of him, almost like a predator looking at its prey. Any normal person would have been scared by her, at the way she was looking at his bleeding wrist but not him. Instead of running away from the predator he willingly offered himself up to her, extending his wrist.

Much like him, she grabbed his bleeding wrist with almost desperation, and for a second he thought she would just go for it but she stopped herself and looked at him instead, eyes glowing slightly. His heart was pumping hard inside his chest, threatening to jump out as he met her hungry gaze, his grip on her wrist tightening. He was nervous and didn't know why but he didn't let it control him as he brought her wrist to his mouth.

As he parted his lips, fangs elongating, he kept his eyes on her and her on his as she opened her mouth. His teeth ached, a new sensation as they begged to be sunk inside her soft wrist, but he controlled himself as he gave her a moment to change her mind. When she didn't and instead they both gave each other a curt nod, he sunk his fangs into her wrist, barely penetrating the skin. For a second he thought he hadn't gone deep enough as blood didn't come out of the wound, but when it did his eyes bulged and he inhaled sharply through his nose.

For years to come, he wouldn't know if tasting her blood on that day had been the best or worst decision of his life, for after her blood hit his tongue he knew he was doomed. He knew that he would never want anyone's blood more than he wanted her's. On that day, something dangerous had awoken inside him.


	2. Chapter 2

September 29th, 2014

It was pouring outside, and Vanya ran at full speed to get out of the rain and into the building before her. When she reached it, she hastily opened the door and walked inside, dripping water all over the floor.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized. She hung her coat on the rack and drove her fingers through her wet hair. 

She was at the violin academy in New York, her present job. 

A dumpy woman, Carol glanced up from the newspaper she was reading and twisted her lip derisively.

“Again, Hargreeves?” She scoffed and watched her as she clocked in. “You know if it weren’t for that last name of yours, you wouldn’t even set foot inside this academy.” 

Vanya did her best to ignore the old bat, but she still ground her teeth as she always did whenever someone brought up her family name. 

Most children hailing from influential, rich families would cling and use their name as a key to open every door that got in their way. But not her. When she graduated from college she had applied to work here, knowing that it was a good music academy with famous, retired musicians on their payroll. Wanting to get the job by her own merit, and not just because she bore the name _Hargreeves,_ she put a different last name on her application. She got to the first phase of the interview process, which made her immensely proud until the academy somehow found out what her real surname was. 

She kept telling herself that they came about her actual family name when they called the college to inquire about her, not wanting to consider the alternative.

 _‘I understand this might be a little difficult for you, but never tarnish the name Hargreeves, Number Seven.’_ That is the sole thing her father had told her after she turned seventeen and let him know that she was moving out. He hadn’t even graced her with looking up from his work as he said that. 

When the academy learned that her last name was Hargreeves they didn’t ask her to attend a second interview, they hired her on the spot, no doubt expecting her father to make a sizable donation when he heard that one of his children was working there. She never learned if that happened, but if her father donated something it wasn’t for her, but the name Hargreeves. 

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” she apologized meekly. 

The only response she got from Carol was a sneer as she looked back down at her paper. Being dismissed and out of the line of fire, she hastily exited the staff room and made her way to where one of her students was no doubt waiting for her.

For the next five hours, Vanya taught student after student, droning on and on about musical theory and overall not putting any effort. After her third student, she checked her watch and went to the lunchroom. 

“Oh hey, Vanya!” Joanne, a lanky older woman with a perpetual smile, greeted her.

In her youth she never had much social practice, having only spent time around her superhero brothers and sister, a very condescending father, a robot for a mother, and a talking chimpanzee. It was because of that, that she hid her face behind her bangs and gave Joanne an awkward, shy smile. 

Joanne didn’t care and as always, brushed Vanya’s social anxiety aside. Vanya both liked and disliked that. She liked that she at least tried to befriend her, unlike the rest of her co-worker that pretended she didn’t exist. But she sometimes just wanted to be left alone but was too shy to say so. Joanne was just the sort of woman that practically jumped with energy, because of that just being around her exhausted her. 

“Hey Joanne,” she greeted quietly, sitting by the large table across from her. 

The ever, somehow energetic woman despite her age, didn’t even wait for her to sit down as she bombarded her with stories about her day and her grandchildren. And Vanya, being too nice to tell her she didn’t care, took her sandwich out of her lunch box and nodded her head, pretending that she was listening. She sometimes wished she had a little more backbone, that she could be as detached as…

She inwardly shook the name that was in her head and closed her eyes briefly. When she reopened them, zoning Joanne out, she took the sandwich between her hands and raised it to her mouth. 

Upon the first bite, she wanted to puke, but all she did was grimace slightly.

Although she may not look it, she is a vampire, but unlike her brothers and sister, she was blessed with being able to consume solid foods, something she sometimes liked to rub in their faces. However, at that very moment, her food tasted like clay, her body’s way of telling her it would no longer be appeased with solid food, that it needed blood. Usually, food would progressively become more and more tasteless, and when she first noticed that change she would quickly consume some blood, never allowing it to get to where food became inedible. It has been two weeks since solid food became inedible for her, and yet she hasn’t had a single drop of blood. 

Vanya took another bite of her sandwich and nearly gagged.

She once read that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results, well if that is the case then she must be losing her mind because she kept eating mouthfuls of her food, expecting it to somehow make her feel better even though her body was rejecting it by this point. 

In the academy she always kept a schedule of the times she drank blood, mostly so mom could know when to make her food or when to give her a bowl filled with blood like the other. But after leaving the academy she discarded the practice, so she didn’t know when she last consumed it, but she knew it had been quite some time. It wasn’t her fault really, and it’s not like she didn’t want to even though bagged blood tasted terrible. It’s because it’s not easy or cheap to buy blood. She couldn’t just go to the local grocery store and buy it. To prevent starvation, she would sometimes lower herself enough to call the academy and ask Pogo to send her a bag. He never said no, nor asked for anything in return. Lately, though, it’s been difficult to swallow her pride. It was beyond silly, but she wanted to prove that she could survive on her own, that she didn’t need them. If her siblings could survive on their own and their vampiric nature was far worse than hers, then so could she.

She inhaled heavily through her nose and took several bites of her sandwich and swallowed them as quickly as possible. 

Joanne chuckled at how earnestly she was eating her sandwich. “My, someone’s hungry,” she exclaimed, confusing the eager way she ate her sandwich with hunger. 

Vanya didn’t correct her, and she forced a smile between bites. If Joanne knew what she was, she would no doubt run to the hills and then call the cops. She wasn’t a danger to people, she never fed on a human in her life, but that wouldn’t make a difference. People fear what they cannot explain, which is the reason they had to keep their nature a secret.

“So,” Joanne took a bite from her lunch, a very fresh-looking salmon. “How’s it going with your students?” 

She groaned softly upon the mention of her students, but thankful for the diversion. Any other co-worker would have mistaken her reaction for contempt towards her students, but not Joanne, who gave her a knowing look.

Not that she didn’t care about her students, or what she did. She loved teaching, loved sharing her passion with other people and seeing them grow as musicians. The problem was that she disliked working at a place like this, being stuck to all the parameters they enforced. She wasn’t free to teach violin the way she wanted to teach it, the way she knew best. She once got a student who was having difficulties using a shoulder rest. Most students find the shoulder rest to be of help rather than a hindrance, but not this student. To help her, she instructed her to play without it. The student flourished soon after until Carol learned that she wasn’t following the school’s curriculum. Students had to learn to use a shoulder rest from the beginning, there were no exceptions. And so she had to force the student to use a shoulder rest from there on in, lying to her by telling her that using one is something she absolutely had to get used to if she ever hoped to learn the violin. A few weeks later, the student quit. Carol blamed it on the student’s lack of skill, even though that student had been one of the best she had ever seen. That girl could have become a very talented violinist, her music had heart, something that cannot be taught, and now she’s not likely to ever pick up a violin again and it was her fault. 

Overcome with guilt, she promised herself that she will one day quit this job once she gets a seat at the string section of the orchestra, and teach from her own home, where she’ll be able to follow her curriculum. 

“As well as you would expect,” she responded almost bitterly. 

Joanne, much like her, shared the same feeling about their current workplace. But unlike her, Joanne was more outspoken and would often argue with Carol over the curriculum. Vanya found it surprising how she still had a job. 

“I hear you,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I heard Carol is making yet another change to the theory curriculum.”

After that, Joanne went on to explain the recent changes, and she should have listened to what she was saying, seeing as it concerned her work, but she still tuned her out. Joanne didn’t seem to realize it, or mind, as she closed her plastic containers and placed them back inside her lunch box alongside the utensils while still talking.

“Shit!” She cursed, and Vanya snapped her head up from her sandwich. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, sitting up on her chair to gaze at her. Joanne shook her head but smiled reassuringly as she picked up a napkin from inside her lunchbox. 

“I cut myself with the knife.” 

When she heard the word, cut, her instincts, the one she kept reigned down at all times, stirred inside her. It was a quarter of a second later that the smell of fresh blood wafted towards her, and her nose flared as the predator inside her nearly broke out of its chain, trying to push its scary face above the surface. 

Her grip on her sandwich tightened to the point that she was stabbing her fingers through it like sharp claws. The brown in her eyes became sharper, almost glowing. 

Unlike her siblings, who were slaves to their vampiric nature, constantly having to fight it, she didn’t have to endure that endless battle of will and control. They often used to joke that she’s a domesticated version of a vampire, far too human. It had only been a joke, but that had hurt her when she was a kid. It made her feel like she didn’t belong anywhere because she either wasn’t enough of a vampire or human to be either or instead; she belonged somewhere in the middle. But what they didn’t know is that she felt the pull of blood just much as they did, especially if she has been starving herself of it for months now. 

inside her ribcage her heart pumped faster, her gums ached, a dangerously uncontrollable craving was starting to boil deep within her, bubbling up and rising to the surface.

“Do you know where she keeps the bandages?” Joanne asked, lifting her finger so Vanya could see it. 

The wound was covered by the napkin, but blood had already seeped through the thin layer. When she noticed the red stain, she averted her eyes and pressed her hand to her mouth. Every muscle in her body coiled. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I totally forgot about your fear of blood,” Joanne apologized. 

Vanya didn’t dare to respond or say a word. She didn’t even dare breathe as Joanne stood up from her chair and no doubt went to find a bandage in the first aid box. 

Once Joanne was far enough away and she couldn’t smell the sweet scent of her blood and didn’t feel like going after her, the muscles in her body lost their strain, and she gave out an unsteady breath. That was until she felt something very familiar, and strange enough presence in her head that made her freeze on the spot again. Something that made the angry-looking scar on her neck ache. 

In the deepest part of her mind, behind heavy bars she always kept locked in place, she felt a familiar presence slide through them, and her breath hitched. Usually, the connection was one-sided, the other side always stayed disconnected, staying away from her but at the moment she felt it spark to life but as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. For a second she thought she had imagined, but she was certain she hadn’t. 

Almost shaking on the spot, she called the name out in her head. 

‘ _Five_?’

When she didn’t get a response, she exhaled and went to stand up, when a very familiar voice replied in her head and she froze solid. 

‘ _Vanya.’_

November 5th, 2003.

Vanya sat by the dinner table, stirring the red liquid in her bowl around, covertly throwing Five sideway glances whenever their father wasn’t looking. Usually, Five would meet her eyes after having given her a sideway glance of his own and then smirk a little, but right now he was completely ignored her. That made something within her twist as she shifted her attention back to her bowl. 

He wasn’t being at all like himself. Instead of pushing the blood around as he often did while looking down at it with distaste, he was sipping spoonful after spoonful of it without making a fuss. Usually, she would be weirded out by it, but seeing as this isn’t the first time he was compliantly following orders, she took in a deep breath. 

It’s been almost a year since they shared blood, almost a year since he started avoiding her, more so than the others. 

After he had slipped his fangs from her wrist that evening, and she took her lips from his wrist, they both rested their foreheads together, their breath mingling, eyes closed. She remembered how full she felt, having taken far more blood than she ever consumed during mealtimes. How her heart was pounding in her chest, an unexplainable euphoric feeling taking hold of her. She couldn’t fully come to terms with that feeling, the taste of his blood affecting her more than she thought. 

When Five had asked her if she ever wondered what actual blood tasted like, and she answered with a yes, she never thought it would taste like that. To her, his blood tastes, unlike anything she’s ever had before. It tasted divine, with a musky, almost earthy aroma to it that had her gulping more and more of it. She didn’t know how she would ever go back to blood bags after that.

Then and there she wanted another taste, her body already addicted to it. But when she realized they had stayed in the position for too long, and Pogo was going to be checking every room, she tilted her foreheads from his and tried to take her hand back from his when his hold on her wrist tightened and he gave out a deep growl that did not sound like him at all. She had frozen still on the spot. 

When she opened her eyes and met his gaze, she gulped in fear when she saw the way his eyes flashed a dangerous green, and his brows sank together into an expression she could only describe as animalistic. 

Before she could examine, or make sense of it, Five quickly caught himself and his expression twisted into a troubled, almost fearful one and instantly let go of her wrist and jumped to his feet. Before she could pull herself together, or say anything Five teleported out of her room without so much as a glance, leaving her completely confused. That had been the first time she had seen him, or any of their siblings react like that, like the monsters they were rather than the humans they pretended to be. 

The next morning she woke up with an unusual yearning to look for Five and be beside him. She had brushed the odd sensation aside and went looking for him, not because she felt that she needed to be close to him, but because she wanted answers. When she found him in the library, buried nose deep in heavy, dusty tomes she could barely read the titles due to how worn and old they were. She had approached him, feeling something inside her settle when she saw him. She had wanted to ask him what happened the night before, why he reacted the way he did but before she could so much as open her mouth Five teleported out of the library without so much as a sideways glance her way, leaving her all alone and confused. 

At first, she thought he was just being difficult for no reason as he usually was, but after days of avoiding her, she realized that wasn’t the case, making her feel more and more confused as well and worried. Five never avoided her, never acted so coldly towards her. She worried that sharing blood had somehow changed that close-knit bond they’ve shared since childhood, and the more the days went by, the more she was proven of that thought. 

Every time she walked inside a room he was in, he would visibly stiffen and proceed to hastily get out of that room. Every time she spoke he would ignore her when in the past he would always make it his duty to listen to every word she said. Every time she sneaked to his room to talk to him, or because she was scared from a nightmare, he would keep his door locked when before she didn’t even have to knock. It was after a month of this that she realized that Five truly wanted nothing to do with her anymore, and that hurt her more than anything ever did. More than those times Diego called her names. When Allison said something mean to her. When Luther would pretend she doesn’t even exist. When Klaus would shrug her off and Ben followed his example, or when dad pointed out yet again how useless she was in front of everyone. 

It then made her wonder why he had changed so much? Was it her blood? Did it really taste that bad to him? That thought sent her down a dark path filled with self-pity and loathing. Not only was she useless, but her blood was disgusting, even to a vampire. A voice at the back of her head told her she was being silly and overdramatic, but she didn’t care. Five didn’t like her blood, that’s all that mattered.

Three months after sharing blood, mom gave them their names. She tried her best to be excited, but with how bleak her life had suddenly turned without her one and only friend by her side, she could barely force a smile. So when mom gave her a name, something she and Five had often talked about, she had accepted it. Five on the other hand waved mom away and kept the name Number Five. Their siblings asked him if he was mad for keeping a number for a name, but Five shot them a glare and left the room. Usually, Diego would scoff at Five’s abrasion towards them, but at that moment he awkwardly shifted his eyes away. It was then that she realized that Five wasn’t just treating her differently, but also their siblings.

Vanya took a spoonful of blood from her bowl and sipped it. She wasn’t as brave as Five to outwardly show her disgust, so she schooled her expression into a blank one and gulped down the plastic tasting liquid that paled in comparison to Five’s blood.

Setting her jaw, she took another spoonful. Unbeknownst to her, with every sip of blood she took, Five flared his nose and his knuckles whitened on his spoon. So when Five suddenly pushed his bowl to the side, sending half its content spilling onto the table, she had been just as shocked as everyone else. 

Snapping their heads up and towards him, they watched him with large eyes as he sent his chair sliding back when he pushed himself to his feet.

“Number Five?” Their father said his name with an angry tone. Usually, when any of them heard that tone being used on them, they would take a seat and make themselves appear small, but Five was never like them. 

Beside her, she watched, brows down-turned, as Five’s hands balled up into fists, his knuckles whitening as he stared at the spilled over blood, his jaw set, not once turning his attention to their father.

“I’m not feeling well.” That was all he said before he teleported.

For the longest time, they all just gaped at the spot Five had vacated. She knew Five to be one to break rules and not care what their father said, but he had never done something like that before. 

In her dismay, she hadn’t even realized that she had jumped to her feet. 

“Number Five will receive punishment for his lack of manners, and rule-breaking, so unless you want to share in his punishment I suggest you sit down Number Seven,” Their father growled, and she instantly took her seat, despite every nerve in her body telling her to go check up on Five but she didn’t dare disobey their father. 

Throughout the rest of their meal, she kept staring at the archway that led to the stairs that would take her to Five’s room. She wanted to go check on him and ask him what had come over him. He may have a rebellious side to him, but leaving the dinner table like that was very unlike him, and his reaction before he left too.

Once they had finished their meal and their father left the dining room, she nearly jumped from her seat with her haste and ran up the stairs. She felt her sibling’s eyes at the back of her head when she passed them, but her attention was not on them.

Despite how much they’ve grown apart in the last year, when she reached Five’s room she pushed the door open without knocking. She had every intention to demand answers, but when her eyes landed on him her words died in her mouth and her legs froze on the spot. All previous anger drained out of her. 

Five was sitting in the middle of his bed, his arms wrapped tightly around bent knees he had pressed against his chest. His forehead was resting on top of his knees, his hair messy from having pushed it back too many times. He had removed the blazer, leaving him with just the dress shirt that had its sleeves haphazardly rolled up, revealing how tense his muscles were, and yet his entire body was shivering as if from a fever. All he needed to do was rock on the spot to complete the madman’s look. 

Surged on by worry now, she practically sprinted to his side. But when she took the first step inside the room, his entire body tensed like the string on a bow as he finally noticed her presence, but she didn’t care. Didn’t care if he was angry at her, or didn’t want to talk to see her, not when he was hurting and she didn’t know why. 

“Five,” she whispered his name with how soft she said it.

When she reached his bed, she sank on the mattress to sit before him. It was then that he lifted his head from his knees and met her eyes. He had only walked out of the dining room but a couple of minutes ago, and yet his state was so altered since then. His eyes were red-rimmed, the brilliant green colour of them looked watered down, losing most of their lustre. His cheeks were red, as if he had spent a long time out in the cold, or had just come back from a run. 

He blinked at her slowly, almost weakly, and her jaws set. She did not understand what was wrong with him, but she did what she’s seen many people do before in films and pressed her hand to his forehead. As soon as her hand made contact with his skin, her lips down-turned. She never thought they could get sick, she’s never known any of them to get a fever or a cold.

“Jesus Five, you’re burning up.”

Seeming to be half delirious by this point, he leaned into her touch and sighed almost blissfully, losing some tension in his shoulders and her eyes softened. She was almost tempted to just keep her hand there, but she needed to find out what was wrong with him. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, taking her hand from his forehead. When he looked like he was going to complain from the loss of contact, she placed her hand on top of his, still clinging to one another as they pressed his legs to his chest.

His hold on his hands tightened upon hearing her questions, and she came to dread the answer. 

“Vanya,” he mumbled, dull green eyes meeting sharp, concerned brown ones. “I need it.” 

“Need what?” She would get anything he needs, anything to make him feel better.

He gulped and licked his lips. His eyes seemed so tired as his gaze fell on the bed.

“Your blood,” he answered softly, as if from shame. 

Vanya blinked twice and nearly asked him to repeat what he said, even though she had heard right. Out of all the things she thought Five would say, that was not one of them. 

He wanted, no scratch that, he needed her blood? But that made no sense, he’s been avoiding her all this time, she thought he disliked the taste of her blood. To hear otherwise was a bit of a shock to her, so she almost thought that he was lying to her to hide something. But when he lifted his eyes back to her and noticed the way he gazed at her she knew he wasn’t lying.

In the small little world of the academy, comprising a tiny circle of people, she’s only ever known one person to be an addict, and that was Klaus. She wasn’t an idiot, nor innocent of the outside world like the rest of her family thought. She knew Klaus did drugs, knew he’s an addict and yet she has never seen what addiction looks like on people, but as she gazed at Five, she knew it looked just the way he was staring at her.

Five’s green eyes sharpened a little with a craze like a glint on them as if the thought of her blood was his lifeline. That took her breath away in both fear and something she couldn’t quite place. 

“For the last year that’s all that's been on my mind,” he told her, nose flaring, and she couldn’t believe her ears.

All that time thinking she crossed some line by offering to share blood, that he had rejected her to hear that wasn’t the case at all. He has been craving her blood all this time. She too has been craving his blood, but she never felt it at the level he was. 

“I can’t even keep bagged blood down anymore, my stomach rejects it every time,” he grated between his teeth. 

She frowned at that. She had noticed that he’s been going to the bathroom quite a bit for the last few days, not letting them use it with how often he was in there. 

She parted her lips to say something, but she shut them firmly when she took his state completely. Sweat was sliding down his skin, his hair sticking to his forehead, his body quivering on the spot. He made such a miserable picture. The prodigy Number Five, the brightest of all the Hargreeves siblings, reduced to this.

He shook his head, causing his hair to flop down over his eyes. The veins in his neck bulged, as he seemed to struggle with himself. 

“But I swore I would never drink it again.” 

She inclined her head to one side and squeezed her lips together. Any other person would show him pity or concern, but she knew him better than anyone else and knew that he would shut her out if she did. So instead of demanding for answers, or telling him everything was going to be alright, she opted to unwrap his arms from his knees instead. As soon as her cool hands came in contact with his feverish skin, he snapped his head up and shot her a confused look before she drew him into a hug and pressed his face into her neck. Five froze like a statue in her arms. He didn’t even breathe.

She caressed the back of his head and he gradually lost some tension in his body as he sank into her hold. 

“Five,” she glanced up at the ceiling as she stretched her neck for him. “You don’t even need to ask.”

He let out a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled pitifully into her neck, enclosing his arms around her and clinging to her blazer.

“You won’t.” She gently racked her finger through his messy, sweaty hair. “I trust you.”

She felt his eyes flutter close as his eyelashes brushed her neck. 

For what seemed like ages he held onto her, his nose nuzzling against her neck. When he finally parted his lips and sank his fangs into her neck, she shut her eyes tightly and flinched a little on the spot, but that initial pain soon faded when he sucked on her neck and took greedy gulps of her blood. 

Back then she didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know what she was dooming them both to. Didn’t know the pain she will have to endure for that decision. For that was the second time she shared blood with him, and a bond began to take shape inside them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool, finished chapter 2!


	3. Chapter 3

September 29th, 2019 

The sound of skin slapping against each other and the loud moans rang loud and clear throughout the room. The scent of sex permeated the air, making his mind turn hazy. 

With a laboured breath, Five drove his hips harder and harder, chasing his own release, his pace growing erratic the closer he got. One hand is balled up on the blanket under him, and the other is clutching a strand of hair inside his tight fist. An overpowering feeling in his gut rose to the tipping point, when he gave one final drive of his hips it burst and with one final grunt he finished inside yet another nameless whore from the commission. 

As the aftershock took him, he remained on the same spot, catching his breath and setting his heart back to its normal rhythm. His hand, that was still holding tightly to strands of brown hair, pulling on the roots, didn’t relinquish its hold. It was when he finally regained his breath, that he let the hair slide through his fingers and slid off the bed without saying a word. 

He was hungry. 

At the loss of his body heat, the woman gave out a low whine. He hadn’t given her an orgasm, but he didn’t care. He paid for his own pleasure, not hers. It was inconsequential whether or not she enjoyed herself. 

Five took his pants and boxer brief from the floor and slipped them on, keeping his back to the bed. 

“Finished so soon?” She hummed and heard the telltale creak of the bed as she slid off it and pressed her body against his back, wrapping her arms around him. Five set his jaw at the contact. Clearly, she was new at this. “But we’ve only just begun.” She purred sultrily into his ear. 

She was a beautiful woman, one that was used to getting her way. Any other man would have been affected by her, the way she roamed her hands up and down his chest to his defined abs, but not him. He was fighting the urge to push her away. 

“Do you know who I am?” He asked, buttoning his pants and fastening his belt. 

She pressed her nose to the back of his neck and nodded, feeling her lips as they curled into a lazy grin. 

“You’re Number Five, the greatest assassin the commission has ever produced.”

He nodded, completely unaffected when she slid her hands down towards his now clothed cock. 

“Then you know that I’m not lying when I say that I’ll kill you before you so much as utter a single word if you don’t get your hands off me this instant,” he responded nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather.

His threat wasn’t empty, he could and would do it. The commission wouldn’t like it, but his punishment for it would be a slap on the wrist and she knew that. 

The woman’s hands froze for a quarter of a second before she seemed to catch herself. In a blink of an eye, she took her hands off of him and scurried back to the bed where she glared at him. Five ignored her. He gathered the rest of his clothes and put them back on.

Fixing his tie and he looked meticulous as ever, he exited the room and shut the door without so much as a glance back. 

He exited the rundown hotel room he had killed a man in just a few days ago. When the cool air of early fall hit his sweaty face, he hummed softly. It was the afternoon, but with the last few days of summer upon them, and fall approaching, the sun was already beginning to set. Good thing because he disliked the sun, not because he was a vampire. The whole bursting into flame thing was utter bullshit, but it was true that it did affect their sensitive eyes. 

As he walked down the streets of New York, he had a destination in mind. He’s been working his ass off the last few days, he already took care of his sexual urges, it’s time he took care of other urges. 

He looked from one side of the street to the other, unsure where to go. Gritting his teeth every time someone bumped into him.

Despite having been raised in this city, he wasn’t as used to, nor as knowledgeable about it as he would like. He didn’t know which bar was the best, but this is New York. There was a bar at every corner. Once he found one, a dimly lit bar in the corner of a street with occupants that were older and not half-drunk college kids, he made his way to it. Of course, he himself is no old man, far from it. He’s only twenty-five, but he’s always been an old soul, or so he’s been told. He didn’t have the patience to sit in a bar blaring the current music at top volume, he just wanted a semi-private bar where no one would bother him and he could have the drink he so desperately needed while not calling too much attention to himself. 

When he entered the bar, no one so much as looked up from their drinks. 

He strode to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools and ordered a glass of hard scotch when the bartender came to take his order. 

Glass of scotch between his fingers, he rested his elbow on the bar, nursing his drink. The only thing giving away how tense he was would be the slight curl at the edge of his lips. The stress he was feeling being the reason he had used that woman. 

like most men he was, a servant to his needs, but unlike most men that felt instant gratification and relief after having sex, he felt the opposite. 

His time with that whore was nowhere near enough for him, but by this point, he knew that even if he had fucked her for hours, it still wouldn’t have been enough. His body readily took pleasure when it was presented to him, but the primal side of him didn’t, not because it was indifferent towards sex but because it craved something more than a simple whore. No matter what he did, how many women he fucked, it discarded the women away like the useless garbage they were, only willing to accept one woman. It was beyond frustrating that his mind wanted the one thing he could not have. But isn’t that just the way life is? With a cruel sense of humour.

He took a sip from his drink, the strong liquid leaving a satisfying soft burn as it slid down his throat. He may be a vampire and could not eat human food, but at least he could drink alcohol and coffee, the two things he lived off of, except of course blood, but even that was unsatisfactory. 

Much like sex, he wasn’t happy with just anyone’s blood. But just like sex, he couldn’t have the blood he wanted. But he has always been a stubborn individual. Even though he knew it wouldn’t make him feel better, he drank and drank until he couldn’t anymore. He usually wasn’t that gluttonous but lately, he’s been oddly thirsty, more so than usual. He mostly only killed during missions, drinking from his victims, that being the only pleasant benefit of his work, but he wasn’t above looking for his own food. Which is his other reason for being here. The only question now was who. 

He didn’t move his head as he shifted his eyes around the bar like a predator examining its prey. One by one he discarded them. Most people present were men, and those few women were already with someone. He gazed down the bar, and that’s when they fell on the girl off to the side, giving him lewd glances while stirring her martini. Bingo. 

Five moved his head to shamelessly take her in, tilting it to one side. She was a brunette, small in stature, pretty but too much makeup for his liking, not that it was important. She didn’t really need to be pretty, not for what he intended, but it was a plus. 

Propping himself on his arm, he met her eyes to tell her she had his attention. When she batted her eyes at him he curled his lips into an alluring smile. He’s been told he has a prickly personality that kept people away, but he could be charming if he needed to be. 

He lifted his scotch to his lips to take the last sip of it so he could go over to her, when his hand froze halfway. The bar around him seems to evaporate to him, as his mind was pulled out of the now. 

In the deepest edges of his mind, on the other side of heavily locked doors he always kept closed, he felt a familiar presence he hasn’t felt in years nudged against it. He always kept the other side of his mind, where _she_ resided, locked away, never daring to open it. And yet he could feel the husk of the presence wrap around the barrier as if begging him to open. The emotion she was feeling was strong enough to have reached him, despite the tight barrier that he put around his mind. And his mind a little hazy from the alcohol, and a little too curious, and slightly worried, he parted the barrier slightly open for a second. When what she was feeling poured through the crack and into his mind like a tidal wave, he hastily shut the barrier and wished he’d hadn’t opened it as he knew exactly what she was feeling.

He bent down on the bar, resting his elbows against the sticky surface. His gums began to ache and his fangs elongated without him intending them to do so. Nose flaring, he fixed his eyes on the scotch before him, concentrating on it as he took deep breaths. 

After so many years of practice ever since that accident, he finally has achieved impeccable control over his thirst. But at that moment it was banging itself against its cage, threatening to burst out of its enclosure and killing everyone in the room to drink their blood, and yet it wouldn’t be enough. That’s how thirsty Vanya was, how much it affected him. 

He vaguely heard the soft jazz music playing in the bar's background, as he hopelessly clamped down on what little he had of his self-control, the rumbling inside him rising to dangerous levels. But when he heard that voice, that soft, innocent voice the thirst inside him almost instantly settled.

 _‘Five_?’ She called his name, making a shiver run down his spine 

His hold on his glass tightened.

For a second he dumbly sat there, unsure whether he should respond, but when he did, he uttered her name like a prayer.

 _‘Vanya_.’ He breathed. 

After eight years apart, of not hearing her voice, not even once, he felt something inside him clutch onto the voice like a lifeline, instantly calming the stress he’s been feeling. The primal side of him purring at her presence. He closed his eyes and inhaled. He wanted her to say his name again. But when the tiny connection banged shut in his face, with her scurrying back to her hideout in almost fear, a wave of bubbling anger began to rise inside him as the primal part of him sought to chase after her. 

Eyes snapping open, his grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles whitened from strain until the glass cracked under his hold, shattering in his hand, breaking his skin in the process. 

“Wow, you ok there pal?” The bartender asked, looking at his bloodied hand, holding a clean rag at him.

Five didn’t respond as he grabbed the rag and wiped the broken glass and blood, not flinching as he looked at the long cut on the palm of his hand. He was in fact thankful for the pain, thanks to it he was snapped out of the spell. 

“Quite the grip you go there.”

Five didn’t make any signs of having heard him. When he threw the soiled rag on the counter, revealing his healed hand, no signs of ever having a cut, the bartender’s eyes widened, his attention fixed on his hand. 

“What the hell…” 

Five got up from his stool, turned on his heels and left the bar, throwing his money on the bar before he did. 

As the chilly breeze hit his face, he firmly shut his side of their mind entirely, locking away his anger with it too and walked through the busy streets of New York, like any other person. He could easily teleport to where he wanted, but he wanted to walk to clear his mind a bit before he got there so he could cool off. 

Vanya was thirsty, beyond comparison, and that sent fiery anger into the pit of his stomach. What the hell was she doing starving herself? It shouldn’t be that hard to keep a healthy human and blood diet. Apparently, it was from how thirsty she was, having been starving herself of blood for months now.

When he reached his destination, now fully dark out, he flicked the stub of the cigarette he had lit and smoked on the way onto the street. He wasn’t much of a smoker, but he did occasionally like to indulge himself, or just to keep his hands busy for a bit. 

Craning his head, he looked up at the apartment that was Vanya’s, a dingy thing falling apart before his eyes. He always scoffed in disgust at it, even though he himself doesn’t even have a place to call home. 

He slipped his hands inside his pant pockets.

This was far from his first visit. He always checked on her, making sure she’s alright because apparently, that was too fucking difficult for her. 

Those rare times he had a break from the commission, he would sit on the emergency escape ladders of the condemned building beside hers, watching her go about her life. There wasn’t anything interesting about it. Her life seems dull at best. No friends, not even a pet to keep her company. Her life was as lonely as his. But being a woman in her mid-twenties, she had needs of her own. So he occasionally spotted a man in her apartment, all one nightstand, and there were even times that he saw a woman or two, Vanya didn’t seem to be picky on that end. That didn’t matter to him, either male or female, he had to use all of his control to prevent himself from following them down a dark alley after they came out of her apartment. The feral beast that he constantly reins down still insisted that Vanya was his, no one else, a greedy, fiercely possessive thing that still didn’t understand that Vanya isn’t his. 

Teleporting to the fire escape of the building, he slumped down to his usual spot and rested his elbow on his bent knee and propped his chin on the palm of his hand. 

The lights of her apartment were off, telling him she wasn’t home, so he waited for her, his mind fell back to his memories.

The first time he had drunk her blood he had been a mere thirteen-year-old boy. A thirteen-year-old boy that was far too curious for his own good, that unknowingly condemned them both. That first taste of her blood had been unlike anything he had before, creating a feral part of him that hadn’t been there before, that demanded more of her blood. He remembered how he had been so scared of it, that he distanced himself from Vanya for a year, and in hindsight, he should have kept his distance. Because by the second time he drank from her blood, their fates were sealed and they still hadn’t known it. 

Five inhaled stiffly as he thought of the memory.

They hadn’t stopped with a second feeding, not even after they started to hear the faintest sound of their thoughts in each other’s heads. Quite the opposite. They fed on each other at every chance they had. After training, after missions, when dad was away, every time they were alone in the dark he would slip his fangs into her, offering her his wrist to her. It became their secret, a rather dangerous secret they didn’t realize they were encouraging, allowing it to grow and fester. By the time they were both fifteen, it was already too late, they couldn’t take it back.

It was at age sixteen he saw the dangers in their secret bond. After a rather difficult mission where he got shot in the arm, he had gone back to the infirmary to get his wound stitched, only to find Vanya’s already there, passed out with an identical wound on her arm. In his shock and horror, he realized the bond had grown from a simple telepathic link to something much, much deeper than he thought possible. And it was then that their father and the rest of their family found out about their secret, making their lives a living hell. 

The first thing their father did was order Vanya to pack up and sent her to a boring, summer school in Europe. As if having his best, and only friend taken from him wasn’t bad enough, the physical and emotional pain he felt from being away from her was. It was like going through withdrawal of the worst kind of drug known to man, even Klaus was a little concerned by his state. He had spent most of his time in his bedroom, sick, or their father’s office, begging him to let Vanya come back. But no matter how many times he tried, their father wouldn’t relent, telling him it was his punishment and a way to get each other’s blood out of their system. Their father had hoped it would break the bond, and while it weakened it a fraction, it did not break it, much to his frustration. 

When the lights to the apartment came to life, Five snapped himself out of his memories and peered at the stained, dust-covered window of her apartment. 

Vanya walked into the living room, carrying what appeared to be a bag of groceries. She seemed beyond exhausted, wobbling to the counters in her kitchen, leaning herself on every furniture and wall. He narrowed his eyes, his muscles coiling, taking in her state. 

She was pale, more than he had ever seen her, and her eyes were sunken, with a red rim around them. If he didn’t already know she was thirsty from what he felt from her, her state told him everything he needed to know. That for whatever reason, she had been denying herself the one substance they all required to survive, blood. 

Five shifted on the spot, his eyes following her. The beast inside him stirred in its cage upon seeing the state of her, demanding that they go to her, but he reined it in. She couldn’t know they were there. However, when she took one laboured breath and her eyes rolled back into her head, missing the table she was going to lean on, he didn’t even think twice as he teleported.

Before Vanya’s knees could even come into contact with the floor, he appeared beside her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around so she landed onto his chest instead. As soon as he made contact with her, and smelled her scent the bond sparked to life, threatening to break down the barriers they both made around them, making his jaw clench. 

Under him, he felt Vanya stiffen slightly, her body far too weak in his hold. 

“Five?” She asked softly, sounding both confused and shocked and yet looking up at him like he was her lifeline.

He didn’t answer, not when his hand pressed against her wrist and he felt how weak her heart was thumping inside her and realized the situation was far worse than he thought. 

His jaw set and his grip on her tightened as panic curled inside him overtaking any anger he might have felt. 

How long has she been denying herself blood? Sure, she didn’t require it on a weekly basis like he or the others did, but she needed it every once in a while. Given her state, it made him think she’s spent months without it. What kind of stupidity compelled her to do something like that? 

Unable to contain his instincts in check any longer, not when he had failed to protect what was his, he shifted her on the spot so her back was against his chest, and lowered them to the floor. He moved his legs and placed her between them as he more or less trapped her with his body. 

There was no logic, no thinking of any kind. She was hurting, and that’s all that mattered to him. 

“Five?” She asked groggily as he wrapped one arm around her securely, getting ready for what he will do next. 

Vanya needed blood fast, and though fresh human blood would be preferable, he couldn’t very well find someone and kill them and then bring the body back to her. He had no time for that. And the feral side of him would not allow that, not when they could feed her just as easily and he didn’t disagree with it. He knew he would break whatever progress they had made in the last few years to distance themselves from one another, but he had no other choice, not unless he let her die. The thought of her gripped his heart and the beast inside him stirred dangerously.

Heart pumping inside him, with shaky arms, he raised his wrist to his mouth. 

When his fangs elongated, he messily bit his wrist open. Blood to seep out of the wound, dripping down onto his shirt in fat drops. Despite her weakness, in his arms, Vanya froze like a statue, not one muscle moving, not even her chest as she held her breath. For a second he stopped breathing as fear gripped him when he thought she had passed out, but when she twisted her neck and sought his wrist like a starved woman, he sighed with relief and held his wrist out to her. Vanya more or less yanked his wrist to her and pressed her mouth to his wound, sinking her dull teeth into his skin, making him flinch. But when she sucked greedy gulps, fear slipped from him as hot pleasure rolled inside him, possessing him, causing him to groan deeply and arch his back. 

God, he forgot how this felt. 

There was always something about blood sharing, so intimate, making a morbid sense of satisfaction rise from the darkest depth of him, as the beast inside him reared its ugly head, growling with possessiveness. He liked feeding her, liked providing her with the nourishment she so desperately needed, liked having her in his arms, pliant. 

Inside his chest, his heart thumped faster and faster in rhythm with her gulps. When her teeth dug harder into his wrist with desperation, he hissed and almost lost his grip on the mental barrier that kept them out of each other’s head, dooming them more than he already did. Thankfully, he kept it in place. If he slipped inside her head now, he would never have the strength to leave again. At the thought of leaving, the beast inside him growled, and he tightened his hold on her. 

For what felt like minutes, Vanya continued to suck in his blood, and he let her, letting her take as much as she wanted. 

When her back stiffened in his hold, as her senses came back to her she gave out a startled whimper at the back of her throat. When she raised her hands and pressed her still too weak fingers to his wrist to push it away, he pressed his wrist down, pushing her down on his chest, keeping his wrist locked in place.

She whined, but he didn’t relent. He knew she needed much more than what she already took. He wouldn’t be satisfied until her belly was full of his blood.

“Shhh,” he crooned as she continued to struggle slightly in his arms. When that didn’t help he hummed softly and stroked her hair back, pressing a warm, reassuring kiss to her temple and that seemed to do the trick.

Slowly she began to lose her fight, becoming pliant under him once more until she finally gave in and the haze returned to her eyes. She took a hold of his wrist and gulped down his blood greedily, the harsh sucking of her lips sent a shot of arousal right into his cock. 

Five sealed his eyes shut and leaned his head back on the wall as a loud groan slipped out of his lips. At that moment he didn’t care if she drained him completely, and he would let her if only their lives weren’t so intertwined. 

When she had enough, and he was satisfied with how much she took, she separated her lips from his wrist, a string of saliva combined with blood connecting them. When her sharp eyes landed on the tiny drops of blood that seeped out of his wound, she gave his wrist soft kitten licks to lap them up.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, stroking her hair, approving that she wasn’t letting any of his blood go to waste, not when it all belonged inside her. “Good girl.”

She whimpered as a response, still high from the blood rush, and he wished she could stay like that, pliant in his arms, his nose buried in her hair. A moment of peace, before the realization of what just happened came crashing back to them. But just as with anything, there was always an end.

When the blood rush and the uncontrollable hunger seemed to leave her and she came back to herself, she stiffened again and turned her neck to gaze up at him and he was sure he had seen nothing more beautiful.

Vanya’s cheeks were a beautiful pink, the colour having returned to them, her brown eyes were sharper but the one thing that had him wishing he could lean down and kiss her as memories started flooding back to him, was the blood covering her mouth and chin. She looked like some vengeful, dark goddess of old, people used to worship, and he would worship her on his knees if only he didn’t feel so damn tired.

Heart beating faintly, but still strong, his eyelids kept dropping on their own as his body demanded sleep. He knew it was dangerous; he gave her a little too much, but he didn’t care, not when it all belonged to her. He would tear apart the world for her, and he would lie down his life just so she could be happy, all in a heartbeat. 

“Five!” He heard the desperation in her voice and could almost feel the way she shook him on the spot, but he barely registered it as his eyes rolled back and everything went black. 

June 25th, 2006

The summer air blew through the air, ruffling the leaves on the trees, coursing over them. 

They were on the rooftop of the academy. He had teleported them there as soon as evening came. They were sitting on the uncomfortable gravel, her back pressed against his chest, his legs on either side of her hips, knees bent. 

He pushed the hair from her neck and pressed his lips to her skin, making her shiver under him. He hummed at her reaction and parted his lips to suck at her skin. His fangs brushing the soft flesh, threatening to cut but never doing so. And though he wanted to, he clamped down on his control, determined to take his time.

This is the first time they’ve been together in over a year ever since their father sent her to that boarding school in England. A year without her by his side, a year without her blood, without his other side, it was torture for both of them. But now that they were together again, they could take back those lost moments together, before she was sent away again. 

Five trailed his hand up to her neck, wrapping his long fingers around the delicate surface, tilting her head to give him better access. She moaned softly when he pressed a kiss to her larynx, such a delicate, vulnerable part of the body but she bared it for him without a second thought. 

When she arrived at the academy, the bond they shared grew stronger with proximity. It took everything he had in him to stop himself from grabbing her by her arm and taking her away when their father ordered them to come to his office. And it took so much out of his control to stand beside her in that damn office, barely listening to their father as he prohibited them from blood sharing again. When he asked them if they understood, they both gave him a curt nod and he dismissed them, confident that they wouldn’t dare disobey him. He thought they would fear him enough not to do it again, that their year apart had broken them somehow, but he was wrong. 

“Did you miss me?” She asked as he nuzzled his nose against a major artery. 

He nodded against her neck as a response, uncharacteristically quiet. She knew exactly how much he missed her, could feel his need twisting inside him as if it were her own. At first, he had disliked that little change to their bond, the shared emotions, but when their relationship changed from something innocent to something more physical, he saw the benefits to it. 

After he was done worshiping her neck, leaving it glistening with his saliva and with an adorable pink spreading around it, he pressed one last kiss on her neck before he brought his wrist up to his mouth. 

As soon as she smelled the scent of his blood, she stiffened in his arms, making him grin possessively into her neck. It satisfied him that she wanted this as much as he did, had been lusting for it, thirsting for it like a parched woman in the desert. 

Putting his hand on her abdomen, he pressed her flush against him. The beast inside him purred with satisfaction and offered her his wrist. There was no ceremony, no preparation as they both sealed their lips on each other. 

His reaction was as it always was. His nose flared, and his eyes slid close as he took in large, greedy gulps of her blood. 

It was euphoric, the most addictive feeling he can never put into words. To feel her tiny lips sucking at his wrist, while he sucked her neck, it made an iron hot sensation bubble up inside him, threatening to burst. It made the beast inside him want to possess her more and more until she was his and his alone. Until their minds were so entangled together he couldn’t know where he ended and she began. It was incredibly addictive, and he didn’t want to stop, but when she separated her lips from his wrist, his nose flared and his jaw clenched as he fought for control. It took him a few seconds longer, but eventually, he was able to slip his fangs from her neck, panting from exertion. 

It took him a while to come back to himself, dilated eyes returning to normal, and heart settling to a normal rhythm, reining back the beast that wanted to sink its fangs into her once more. But once he did, he pressed his index finger on her chin and tipped her face towards him. She gazed up at him with doe, innocent eyes, as he smirked at the mess she made. 

Her chin was covered in his blood, dripping down her neck, but thankfully it didn’t stain her uniform. He always found it so charming how much of a messy drinker she was, always spilling his blood, but he didn’t clean her right away as he connected their lips instead. 

As always, sparks seem to fly when they kissed. 

With an appreciative hum, she leaned into him, parting her lips after he demanded access to it. When their tongues connected they both groaned as the blood in their mouths mixed, creating a heady concoction, making the heat pool inside him. It was with great effort that he gave her bottom lip one last suck, making her whimper before he separated their lips. He wanted to do more, but they were on a rooftop and even though he made sure they wouldn’t get caught, he wasn’t going to take the chance. He licked the blood off of her instead.

With meticulous care and attention, he licked the rest of his blood from her chin. Once he was satisfied that there was not a speck of blood on her, he tucked her in his arms and rested his chin on top of her head, arms wrapped around her tiny frame. Feeling so sleepy and satisfied, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift inside hers. His favourite place to be. The only reaction he got from her was a slight shiver, but then she sank into him fully and brushed her mind with his. For the longest time, they remained like that, in each other’s arms, deep inside each other’s head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) :)


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